NIGHT SHOOTING. 157 



my gun. The gloominess of my solitude was in- 

 creased by the occasional " Qua-qua !" of the night 

 heron, which made the succeeding hush more dreary, 

 during which even the falling of leaves and the rustl- 

 ing of insects among dry grass were hailed as a relief 

 to the oppressive silence. To a man in a savage 

 wilderness, and without a companion, silence, espe- 

 cially when combined with utter privation of light, 

 is inexpressibly solemn. It strikes the mind not 

 merely as a negation, but as a threatening presence. 

 It seems ominous. I shall never forget the loneli- 

 ness and sense of desolation I felt on this occasion. 

 It was past midnight, and still no game appeared. 



Suddenly, I fancied I heard the purr and breathing 

 of an animal close behind me; but, as no other 

 indications of any living thing ensued, I attributed 

 the sounds to a heated imagination. All at once, 

 however, the dismal stillness was disturbed by the 

 quick steps of a troop of pallahs, descending the 

 stony slope leading direct to my ambush. Stooping 

 as low as possible, in order to catch their outline, I 

 awaited their arrival with my gun on full cock. 

 Xearer and nearer they came, till at last I fancied 

 the leader was on the verge of the pit-fall; but, just 

 at that moment, there was a low, stifled growl, n 

 rush, and then a faint cry as of some dying animal. 

 All was again silent. Though the impenetrable 

 darkness prevented me from seeing anything, I 

 could no longer doubt that I was in the immediate 

 vicinity of a lion. I freely acknowledge that I felt 

 awed, well knowing that were he to attack me I 

 should be completely at his mercy. My situation 



